


Can you lay with me so it doesn't hurt?

by lunasenzanotte



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Character Death, Hate to Love, Historical, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 03:14:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15743064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/pseuds/lunasenzanotte
Summary: Years ago, Edin's family plotted against Aleks', and Aleks' brother was murdered. Now Edin appears in town, and it could start a war, or heal Aleks' wounds...





	Can you lay with me so it doesn't hurt?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt at footballkinkmeme that requested a Romeo & Juliet-ish AU.

Aleks hears the excited voices long before his closest friend Raheem storms inside the reading room.

“What is it?” Aleks asks.

“We caught something,” Raheem laughs. “You might want to look at it.”

Aleks frowns, closing the book and rising from his chair. Two other men of his household push a man inside of the room. There is a bag placed over his head, and a rough rope wrapped around his wrists, and he’s struggling. If it’s panic or defiance, Aleks can’t tell.

Raheem rips the bag off of his head, and the man blinks into the light.

Aleks loses his voice.

He doesn’t know this man, doesn’t know his name, but he knows these features. Unmistakably, he recognizes the dimple in his chin and the high cheekbones and the curve of his brows. No matter who he is, this man is a Džeko.

“I didn’t think any of you would ever try to come back,” Aleks says slowly.

His hands tied and mouth gagged, the man only glares at him. Almost like he’s the one innocent, the one hurt.

But it’s Aleks who’s hurting here, deep inside, and has been for years.

When it’s late at night and he closes his eyes, he still sees what caused the pain. Sees himself as a scared youth, surrounded by enemies with sharp blades, sees Nikola on the marble floor, the crimson rivers running under his body. He only has to run his fingers across the scar on his shoulder to feel the pain again. Bad aim of the assassin, some would say. A guardian angel’s hand making the blade slip, others would say. Sheer luck, Aleks would say.

The assassins were caught and hanged, the Džeko family banished from the city. It didn’t make it feel better. It didn’t make him feel safer, or less lonely. No one’s death could bring his brother back, no one could banish the memories from his mind.

But now this man is back, and it makes the memories more vivid than they have ever been.

And it makes him angry, but surprisingly, the anger isn’t quite aimed at the man, whoever he is, but at his own.

“Why did you bring him here?” he asks.

Raheem gives him a worried look. “He’s a Džeko,” he says. “He’s not supposed to be in our city.”

“And what am I supposed to do about it?” Aleks asks.

“You have the right to kill him, if you so please,” Raheem says matter-of-factly. “Your father would…”

“My father isn’t here now,” Aleks reminds him.

His father would kill the man. He would kill any man sharing only a drop of blood with Nikola’s assassins. The death of his heir wounded him deeply, and he never recovered. Only a shadow of the once powerful man remained, a weak but spiteful shadow, leaving all the duties to Aleks when he wasn’t quite ready to bear them on his shoulders.

“Leave us,” Aleks says. 

Raheem nods to the two other men, who force their captive to sit in one of the chairs and promptly leave. Raheem shoots one look at Aleks before walking out as well, closing the heavy wooden door.

The man sits still, watching Aleks warily. Aleks stalks closer to him. It would be easy, to just draw the dagger from his belt and cut his throat.

But he has his honor. He would never kill an unarmed man, leave alone one bound and helpless.

He reaches out and removes the gag. The man blinks in surprise.

“What’s your name?” Aleks asks.

“Edin.”

The name is unfamiliar. He’s never heard it mentioned in his house. Which means that there is nothing tying him to Aleks’ brother’s death. He might be just someone’s cousin or nephew.

“What are you doing here, Edin?”

“You’re asking me?” Edin looks at him. “Your men attacked me, tied me up and brought me here!”

“And they had every right.”

“Given to them by you?”

“Your family plotted against mine,” Aleks says. “Sent assassins to murder us. Left my brother to bleed out on the floor of a church. A church!”

He shouts the last word, and Edin startles. Aleks takes a deep breath.

“Your family was banished from the city. Coming back is not a good idea,” he says. “There will never be peace, but there doesn’t have to be a war. Do you understand? Don’t start the war again.”

“You don’t want to kill me, though,” Edin says, and it’s not a question. His hands are relaxed now, he’s not struggling against his bonds anymore. He feels safe.

“There are people who do,” Aleks says.

“Why not you?”

Aleks looks at him. “Nothing I’d do to you would take away the pain,” he says. “I’ve been holding this grudge for too long. But there’s no closure, more violence can’t heal what violence caused.”

He draws the dagger from his belt and cuts the rope binding Edin’s wrists. It feels strangely liberating. Almost like he’s freeing himself.

“I’ll walk you to the back door,” he says, helping Edin to his feet. “Go straight to the city gates, don’t stop anywhere. And don’t come back. Ever.”

But when he watches Edin walk out on the street, and sees him turn back, he feels deep inside the last advice fell on deaf ears.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“You let him go,” his father says. “Why?”

Raheem complained. Raheem felt betrayed. And he found recourse in the patriarch of the Kolarov family.

“He had nothing to do with Nikola’s death,” Aleks says.

His father glares at him. “ _Every_ Džeko has something to do with Nikola’s death,” he hisses. “Even those who weren’t born yet. Blood for blood. And Nikola spilled all of his. You spilled a good amount, too.”

“I know.”

“How much did they? Not a single drop!” his father barks. “I would kill every man of that name.”

“Why didn’t you, father?” Aleks asks. “Why didn’t you do it back then? Why don’t you do it now? Why does Raheem go to me, why does he put the sword in my hand and not yours?”

It seems that he hit close to the heart. His father rises from his chair. It’s the first time in months Aleks sees him do so.

“Raheem is a loyal boy,” he says. “More loyal to our blood than you are. He honors your brother’s legacy.”

“I too honor his legacy,” Aleks objects. “But his assassins are long dead and buried. There’s no one to take revenge on anymore.”

His father looks at him with disdain. It’s not new, but it still hurts the same.

“As long as one of them is still breathing, there is someone to take revenge on,” he says.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Edin comes back. And Aleks had hoped he would.

Because Edin is the only Džeko not holding the grudge anymore. And Aleks is the only Kolarov not seeking revenge. Being in Edin’s presence is healing. The hours spent in the shadows, in houses belonging to Aleks’ family but long unused, or in remote inns, are his solace. Edin is the sun to Aleks’ darkness, he laughs easily and forgives quickly, and loves like he doesn’t know anything else.

When they make love, Edin always kisses the scar on his shoulder. And the pain it would bring back is forgotten. And for the first time, Aleks feels like there is just him, because Edin only kisses _him_ , only whispers _his_ name and only comes undone for _him_. For the first time, Aleks is free of his brother’s shadow.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Raheem suspected, Raheem saw, Raheem complained.

And Aleks’ father found the last remnants of his strength to finish what he started years ago, to honor the promise he gave over the bloody corpse of his eldest son, to no one in particular, or maybe only to himself.

One night, after he leaves the warmth of their secret love nest, Edin doesn’t reach the city gates. Aleks hears about it from the people. Not from his father. His father has given up on him the day he found out that Aleks had tainted their name. Tainted it with all the kisses and caresses he had for an enemy.

They find his body in the evening, by the river. A priest from the nearby church has it moved to the crypt, until the family reclaims it. If they find the courage to do so. If not, he tells Aleks as he leads him down, he will have him buried there. Enough blood has been spilled, he says.

Maybe not enough yet, Aleks thinks.

The priest leaves him in the crypt. Aleks takes a careful step towards the catafalque. 

Edin looks… pure. That’s the only word that comes to Aleks’ mind. His face bears no signs of the torture Aleks knows his father’s men submitted him to, like no matter what he went through, what men did to him, at least Death took mercy on him.

It’s like his innocence is shining through, accusing everyone. Accusing Aleks.

Aleks traces the features he once memorized, and then came to love, with his fingers. Then he sits on the edge of the catafalque, as he would on the edge of a bed, waiting for his love to wake up. But he knows that Edin never will.

He reaches for the dagger on his belt. Maybe it will not end the war. Maybe it will. He will not be there to see it. But he is too tired of fighting it.

He kisses Edin’s lips for the last time before burying the dagger in his own chest.

Like his father said, blood for blood.


End file.
